


Ease

by cannibalisticshadows



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Beta Rumpelstiltskin | Mr. Gold, Beta/Omega, Dry Humping, F/M, Feral Behavior, Knotting Dildos, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Older Man/Younger Woman, Omega Belle, Omega Verse, Romance, Some Angst with a Happy Ending, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Fisting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:40:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22521148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cannibalisticshadows/pseuds/cannibalisticshadows
Summary: She was beautiful, she was kind, and she seemed to like him. But she was also an omega, so he could never be able to satisfy her needs.
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Comments: 12
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A spin-off of my series _The Alpha_ , which features alpha Gold on omega Belle.
> 
> I had a sudden, crippling desire to write a beta on omega relationship. Beta/Omega pairings are pretty lacking, especially when everyone in the A/B/O dynamic scene is focusing on big fat knots on possessive alphas and whimpering little omegas in heat. 
> 
> Well, there's a whimpering little omega in heat in this one, but our man is no alpha. At least, when it comes to the biological scene. Has anything Gold ever done certifiable to be labeled _beta?_ Still, it's delicious to see him so convinced he doesn't belong with Belle.
> 
> Rules that applied to the universe in The Alpha series are not the same here. For example, the way I portrayed the estrus cycle (heat) in those stories, are portrayed as fairly mild. In this universe, it's much more serious.

His first impression of the new librarian was that she was just another face.

Mr. Gold overheard her before anything, one midsummer day when the sun was too hot for the solemn Scot to be strolling outside in his three-piece suit. Nothing seemed to so much as make him frown involuntarily, but even he disliked sweltering in all his layers. It’s what made him stand out in the town diner, and not just his reputation, but his immaculate dark clothing and piercing sable eyes, set in his worn, uninviting face. He’s a hard man, difficult to know and easy to dislike. Which was the collected opinion on him. He didn’t care. His reputation made it so no one dare cross him. No one so much as sent him a raised eyebrow, when he comes in looking like Death in Armani, seconds away from either ordering someone’s execution or something ridiculously priced and served in small portions. The execution would be more available in this establishment, considering Granny’s was the last place he’d choose to socialize. 

He was entertaining the thought of purchasing a drink on this scorched day, when he heard the loud intake of breath behind him. Light, feminine, and he inwardly both smirked, and cursed at the expected dainty girl who no doubt felt faint in the presence of the town beast. Passively, he glances to the side, listening to the pair of young women that had been dawdling near the front of the diner, most of them loud and carefree, exposed flesh and teeth. He recognizes young Miss Lucus in the lead, her hand gestures grand and her words sharp and sure. She commanded her group of friends like a choir conductor, effortlessly at first glance, but after a moment of discrete observation, he can see her need to possess the ongoing conversation as plain as day. The girl kept her anxious eyes on each of her friends, nostrils flaring as she scented the air, her smile wide and forced. Yet she had stopped, as did the other members of her little gang, for one of them had broken the easy atmosphere amongst them.

“Who’s that?” A girl asks. Forign. Newcomer, he muses. Despite her interesting accent, the fact she had to ask after _him_ was sign enough.

Ruby frowns at her new groupie. “Belle, that’s _him_.” She leans into the new lass’s ear, whispering something, to which Dr. Victor Whale, who was sitting at the bar, snorts aloud before realizing that Gold himself stood a few feet away. 

Victor was on the other side of the room, having heard quite well. Gold, who was closer, had not, and his hearing was perfectly normal. For the average human.

He regards the doctor with a cool glower, and Victor backs his head away and looks ready to apologize, but Gold beats him to it. “How are those gambling debts coming along, Dr. Whale?”

Victor does not laugh again. Ruby, who he knew had watched and listened to him speak to the doctor, shuts her mouth and avoids his eyes for the rest of the day. And as for the newcomer, Belle, he doesn’t so much as look at, assuming after years of experience that she was already well embedded into Storybrooke’s views of the infamous Mr. Gold.

~.~.~.~

Belle French, he later learns, is a twenty-five year old librarian from Melbourn who loves tea and classical romance novels. He learns this not from gossip, but from the lass herself.

She came into his shop a few days following the incident from the diner, coming in with a gust of wind at her back that blew and batted at her long brunette hair and bright yellow sundress that tied at her waist in a girlish ribbon, and it made her look younger and more carefree than she truly seemed. Giving a squeak of dismay at her ruffled appearance, but laughing and commenting offhandedly about the weather, the door closes behind her with a ring as she enters the store. He, in the soft lighting of his antique store with the late day sun rays gleaming through his windows and yet, the shadows in his dark corner more than forbidding, gives her a tepid smile. 

“Hello!” She greets him with such good humor that he almost takes a step back to analyze her in suspicion. As it were, the poor thing must not know who he was to the full extent, and seemed like the kind of girl that was friendly with everyone upon first meetings. He would go easy on her. For now. 

“Hello,” Gold responses calmly. “What can I do for you, dearie?”

Her eyes are bright blue, he cannot help but see, as she comes right up to the counter. “Oh, I just finally had the time to come out of the library, see. I’ve been trying to set everything up before Monday.”

“The library? Beneath the clock tower?”

“The one and the same.”

“Well, you certainly have your work cut out for you,” he comments airily, looking down as he fiddles with an old pocket watch. He’d been working on it for a good twenty minutes now, but the bloody little parts inside had been banged up beyond repair. 

“Yep, I certainly do,” the lass chirps as thought he hadn’t tried to brush her off. “My name’s Belle. Belle French. I moved here last week—studied up in Boston, originally from Malbourn.” She extends her hand up, seeking to take his own.

He glances up now, still wondering when she’s going to state why she was here. Clients and tenants have done a similar dance, but none quite this good. Yet to his surprise he raises his own hand and grasps hers. Her fragile, pale hand is so small in his, yet it carried a sure strength that he admires. He wonders why she had chosen to come to Storybrooke, that, despite the charming name, was yet another typical small town in the middle of nowhere. A girl coming from such big towns, why would she ever want to come here? No, not girl—woman, he noted with some respect to her friendly bravery. 

“Mr. Gold,” he introduced himself. “Antique broker, landlord, and defense lawyer. What can I do for you today?”

“My, quite the accomplishments! You must have made your parents proud.

Gold frowns, keeping back from saying there had been no pleasing parents who were never there in the first place, save a cheap motel bed nearly forty-six years ago. “Of course. Is there something specific you‘re looking for?.”

Miss French blinks rapidly, but shakes her head with a smile. “No, I mean—I just wanted to come meet you finally. Unless you have some classic romances. I’m a sucker for those. Anywho, I’ve heard a lot about you. Though, I’ve come to make my own opinion.”

This, he hesitated over. So she was aware of him. Had heard his reputation. Yet, wished to see the beast in person. He gives her a sardonic smirk. “And what is that?”

“Well, I can’t be sure yet,” she says boldly, clasping her hands together. “So I believe I need more date— _data_ , I mean... Or date. Do you like tea?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Tea? Or are you more of a coffee fellow? I can make either. Come to the library sometime tomorrow, I should be done setting up by then.”

He has no idea how to respond at first, staring at her incredulously. She wanted to have tea. With him. In the library, on a Sunday, the day before it had its grand reopening, so it would just be her and him. Alone. Having tea. It sounded like something fabricated out of a lonely dream, and he wonders if he’ll wake up any moment to find himself hungover in his parlor at home.

“Only if you want to, of course,” Miss French reassures somewhat nervously, and he decides that this behavior is not the norm for her. To his equal displeasure he speaks up.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-five. Why?”

“You’re awfully young to be trying to proposition someone like me.”

“Proposition—no! Just. Maybe a little date, yeah. Do you want to?”

A girl more than twenty years his junior was trying to get sappy with him? He must be dreaming. But he shames himself by accepting. “Ah… sure, dear. Whatever you want.” _Whatever you want, the sun, the moon, the stars._

And the girl, the _woman_ , who had made it clear exactly what she wanted, gives him a blinding smile before sweeping out of the store. He stares after her, baffled and still wondering if that had really happened. Belatedly, he realizes the sun had set. Gold muses she must have taken it along with her leaving. Surely she must have, as the whole shop suddenly felt more enclosed in shadows, cold and empty. He must see where she had taken the warmth he didn’t know he was missing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is a tad rushed, but the real stuff happens in chaps to come..

Alphas could be the most irritating, most troublesome people Gold had the displeasure of knowing. They were loud, obnoxious, controlling, and the majority of them seemed to act like they had a right to behave like an untamed animal. 

It was common knowledge that the kinds of men (and women) who were born with the _Alpha_ chromosome, named after the first letter of the Greek alphabet, were something just barely certified as human. That was how the media portrayed them. If they weren’t overcrowding the prisons, then they were some CEO or screwing someone’s daughter. In their defense, it was simply biology. There are suppressants, and depending on where one lives they are either mandatory, optional, or prohibited. As it were, Maine had pretty lax laws on them. 

Gold had a fairly decent knack of telling who could be an alpha or not. Sometimes it was plainly obvious. Mayor Regina Mills, the woman who _almost_ became his step-daughter, had shown signs very early on, to which her mother refused to acknowledge. And there was Dr. Whale. The Lucus family. Keith Nottingham. Gaston Hunter. They all had that same kind of presence around them, like an aura, that he sometimes thought screamed authority, or some form of untapped aggression. Other times he didn’t know until he was informed, or saw it on their ID cards--a lowercase _Alpha_ letter on the lower right corner. Because of that, even he couldn’t say all alphas were the same.

Specifically David Nolan, another alpha he knew of in town, was a thorn in his side, and David was as doggy as a bloody labrador. Yet, apparently, his good nature is due to his wife, Mary Margret. 

“You know, some people say that you’re an alpha,” Belle comments as they stroll through the park on a Saturday, two weeks after her bold offer of tea with the town beast. He’d shocked himself when he accepted her proposal, and since then they have been a curious pair of… acquaintances. Not friends. Gold doesn’t have friends. 

Miss French, or _Belle_ she insists, has burrowed herself deep into a part of his life that he cannot ignore or shake off. It is very unusual for people to seek him out for social reasons, and after having been without so long it was forign to him. Almost novel. Belle was a pleasant young woman and made interesting conversation. So, he was not entirely against the idea of spending time with her now and then. She initiates most of their little “dates”, though they are not, most certainly not, romantic dates. They simply had tea or took walks, or he listened dutifully as she prattled on about this or that, usually books she’s recently digested. Today, they were on a walk, as she insisted he come out of his _lair_ a bit.

“Oh?” He scoffs at her remark, letting out a sigh of relief as they find a bench to sit under a shady tree. Blasted ankle was smarting today. He threads his fingers together and rests them over the handle of his cane, and Belle crosses her long bare legs, smoothing out her black a-line skirt over her thighs. He tries not to stare. 

“Mhmm. The mayor keeps her distance from you. It freaks everyone out, I think,” she laughs. It’s a pretty, tinkling sound. The corner of his mouth quirks at this.

“That’s because of basic human principles and respect, my dear. Not all that huffing and snorting.”

“Huffing and snorting?” Another laugh. He clenches his jaw, willing thoughts of why this beautiful young woman was spending her free time with an ugly old man like him. Gold was selfish, however, and he wanted to soak up her attentions as badly as a man dying of thirst when presented with a tall glass of water. The need was just as fierce as his desire to chase her away.

Gold shakes his head. “No, I am not an alpha. It gives me an advantage in my line of work, however. I’m not affected by... _those_ kinds of things.”

Belle nods at this. “Betas often do, though alphas don’t like admitting it.”

“Why do they call us that?”

“What?”

“Betas,” he says, the word sounding silly to his ears, much less the way it feels to say. All these tiresome labels that were sprouting up throughout the years just made him feel more… old fashioned. In his prime, there were people, and then alphas and omegas. Today, there were a lot of more acceptance, and he had never honed prejudice against them, but sometimes it made his head spin, especially when scientific studies that had been considered taboo long ago were often spoken of. Sometimes, they sound more like alien studies or science fiction. 

“Oh. Well, I think it’s because…” Belle visibly struggles to explain. “Well, they can do a lot more nonverbal communication, and things that matter a lot to them are stupid to b—to us. Scents, body language. If one’s angry or upset, his or her scent signature says it loud and clear, even if they’re not acting like it.” 

“Ah,” he hums.

“But I like that you’re normal,” Belle suddenly says, and he turns his head to meet her eyes. “Alphas are… they like to own things. Everything is run by a schedule to them, in a way. They think they deserve things that they have no right to. And omegas—” her breath hitches. “Omegas are all expected to be their bitches.”

“Is that so,” he muses, amused by her swearing, and wonders if she has a reason to dislike alphas. Mr. Nolan, he had to admit, was annoyingly friendly, but he was a good man. But Belle doesn’t respond, and her cheeks become flushed with some unspoken passion, her eyes set hard and distant in thought. The phase passes, and she turns to him and gives him one of those bright smiles, and reaches out to pat his arm. 

“Not that all alphas are like that. But--socially it’s expected. I like normal,” Belle tells him. “I like choosing my own path.” He nods, and wonders what was on her mind to make her speak like this, but doesn’t press her for answers, merely content to be favorable in her eyes. Yet again he thinks she is seeking a romantic partner in him, but _no one_ liked him, not even his ex-wife when they were still married. His son, sure, but not women. Not a woman as lovely as her.

But she keeps her hand on his arm, her eyes soft, and Gold is not immune to fantasy.

~.~.~.~

It happens when summer is coming to a close.

It’s not found out on purpose, and it’s one that Gold is not sure he wished he knew at all, or if he wished he knew the moment she came to Storybrooke.

Yet again, suppressant laws were on the rise in politics for whatever reason, but he did not pay much attention as his own town had its own problems, and they had no effect on him either way. The alphas, mayor included, were not affected, either. It was about omega suppressants. 

Omeganism wasn’t something Gold thought about often, and when he did, it wasn’t something he remembered in a positive or neutral light. Yet as it was, it was a big subject in certain circles. 

A lot of politicians and lawmen thought that omegas should not have a choice when it went to their suppressants. For if someone with Omaganism went off their pills, it could mean trouble. Estrus, when it hits an omega, is an alpha’s aphrodisiac. It made them aggressive and feral, much more than usual. Which was why omegas often went undetected, leading some to think they were not as rare. 

However, some people just like shaking things up, and Gold knew a lot of that has to due with lining someone’s pockets from the propaganda. 

A temporary band on omega suppressants came over their state. It was justified with the reason that the government needed to be notified of every Omeganism case in Maine, and this was being done city by city, town by town. Officials from the state and a certain type of federal agent came over Storybrooke like an angel of death, informing the townsfolk of the new band, and their reason for making everyone uncomfortable. It was almost dystopian, Gold muses as he watched this drama unfold. Again, he does not pay it much mind, as it does not concern him. He knows no omega besides Mrs. Nolan, as David was wont to announce proudly. 

Belle was all he cared about lately. Her smile, her tenderness, her willingness to be his friend and… she touches him. Puts her hand on his arm, his shoulder, cups his face and brushed his hair and plays with loose strands. Friends don’t do that, he knows despite his lack of them. And, with every get-together, she is sure to call it a date. How all the signs before him point to her intentions with him. The way she seeks him out without shame, no mind to her own reputation. She tells him he’s handsome, his accent lovely, how she wishes he could be there to tell her goodnight every night—he does not assume anything however, does not dare take it a step farther, does not lean in when she looks at him like he’s the only one that matters—

“You’re sure you don’t know of any?” Asked a woman named Emma Swan, who stood in his shop with her hands on her hips, flaxen hair tied back. She was some kind of officer, and introduced herself as a representative of something called OC. If she was just a representative, he frowns in thought, then why did she carry a taser at her waist? He does not care for her already, wanting to sink back into his progressively inappropriate thoughts of his… no, she’s not his girlfriend, not his lover...

“The only ‘omega’ I know of is Mary Margret Nolan, and she is—what you called it—bonded. Again, dearie, I do not make it a habit to know of everyone’s _’biological status’_.”

“Yeah, but see here, here’s the thing. Everyone around here says you got this whole town in your pockets. So, are you sure you don’t know of any unbonded omega?”

Gold was starting to get annoyed. He had no issue moments ago when Ms. Swan came in to ask him if he knew anyone with omeganism, but now it felt like he was getting the third-degree. 

“Dearie,” he stresses, folding his hands over his cane, “if your people can sniff out these omegas as easily as you claim to, why are you here asking me? It’s not my business to know the medical conditions of my tenants.”

Ms. Swan frowns deeply at this, and instead of leaving as he wished, she puts her hands on the counter and leans forward. “It’s not a _medical condition_ , asshole. It’s a biological selection for prime reproduction. Which you have the scent of all over you.”

His brow twitches, and he looks up from his work to frown deeper at her, now openly expressing his annoyance with the woman. “What are you talking about?”

“I got a really strong nose, buddy. And my nose never lies. So, want to start talking truth or keep lying about the girl you have tucked away?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” he sighs exasperatedly. 

His unwanted visitor grimaced and shook her head. “Okay, fine. Maybe you don’t know. But _someone_ you know is an unbonded omega.”

“I know a lot of people, Ms. Swan, it wouldn’t faze me if that were true. Again, it’s not my business.”

“Maybe, but you’ve got it on you strong. The ban started a week ago, she’s going to start showing the signs now.”

With that, she heads to leave, right as his young lady friend comes in for her daily visit and harassment of tea and books and touches that surely do not mean she is looking for more. Swan stops, stares at Belle, and gives a shake of her head.

“There you are,” the officer says grimly, and only then does Belle notice the other woman. Seeing the uniform, his little librarian frowns and—almost looks afraid. A sense of need comes over him, to speak up and defend his friend, _yes okay she is a friend,_ against this rude officer. “You’re gonna have to come with me. You’re not in trouble, but I’ve been hunting you for a while. Need to get you processed.”

“I beg your pardon?” Gold finally speaks up, stepping out from around the counter. “Belle doesn’t need to go anywhere with you, Ms. Swan.”

“Actually she does,” Swan remarks snippily, not bothering to look at the older man. “Common, hun. You can start your suppressants back up in a couple of months.”

Gold, feeling several emotions at once, decides to choose going numb. Because he has no idea what to think when Belle is swept away to be officially labeled an omega.

~.~.~.~.~

The first time Gold had seen an omega, at least when he was _aware_ of it, was when one was in the throes of her estrus cycle.

Several years ago, when Regina was just a little girl and he was a young man, he had dated Cora Mills, her mother. He had just graduated from law school and was looking for a place to have his own firm when his lover, and the woman who helped sponsor him through college in exchange for his wicked ways, invited him to a house party at her estate. It might have been a mansion, as he had never seen a house that big or that grand before. He had suspicion that Cora, though she had been a delightful woman in bed and aided him financially, had several other young men to entertain herself with if she saw potential in them, like she claimed to in him. However, she went out on a limb to make him her public paramour with her husband away on business. No one batted an eye at these things, not with the kinds of rich, snobbish people he met on the two-day party.

The first day had been as normal as it could, it being run by a bunch of wealthy, decadence-loving people who viewed their staff and servants as slaves, and ate meals that could go over 1k for a single plate. It was quite a learning experience for him. Cora later explained, that he would be just like them with how smart and clever he was. Looking back now, he sometimes wished he had left quickly after, even if it meant losing her funding. 

The second day ended in something he would never forget, and left him somewhat traumatized by the whole thing. 

Cora had announced to her guests that she had a rare treat to show us, _special_ entertainment. He and the others were interested, especially since these people could never buy enough cars or drugs or people to scrub between their toes because they themselves couldn’t be bothered to. If whatever Cora had to offer would arrest their interest, then so would his.

They were brought to a large bedroom somewhere in the house, fitted with many seats and lounges for the audience. Gold was given a front row seat next to Cora. In the middle of the room was a large bed, red sheets. After everyone was seated, two men came in carrying a person. A woman, clothed in a thin bathrobe.

She was dumped on the bed, robe striped, and everyone went silent from initial shock as they processed what was being shown.

The naked woman wasn’t put there to strip or give lap dances, or anything else an escort might do at a lavish party like this. No, she was the entertainment indeed. But a spectacle.

She was crying. No, almost screaming. Hard, pained crying that instantly put him and others on edge. Heaving, her whole body flushed and feverish, her bare breasts jiggling as she rolled around in something of a fit, like a seizure that rocked her body with some great ailment. It wasn’t until the naked woman rolled onto her back that he realized something else.

Her vagina was dripping wet. She was so soaked, so lubricated, that he assumed someone had bathed her nether regions in jelly. But her vulva was so swollen and red and puffy and—she was touching herself. Sobbing, in pain, and masturbating. She was babbling incoherently, nothing making sense, and her eyes glassy and unfocused. 

Gold nearly shot up and demanded someone call a doctor, because this wasn’t funny, wasn’t sexy, and whoever drugged her was going to be—

“Relax, darling,” Cora had cooed, and gestures to the others. “Nothing’s wrong! Observe, my dears! An omega in the throes of her estrus!”

Another scream of pain was wrenched from the woman, the omega, and he can’t help but exclaim, “But she’s in pain! We have to call someone—“

“We already have,” Cora said, giving him a glare to sit back down. “Lyon, bring the ‘alpha’ in.”

One of her lackys brings in a man, a college student of some kind, that walks in looking like he wished he was anywhere but here. Gold deduced he came here with some offer he couldn’t refuse. Perhaps money—he later finds that someone paid him over a thousand to attend his spectacle.

He didn’t speak, but his body language changed like night to day upon entering the room. He changed. Suddenly he was whining and staring at the writhing woman on the bed like she was a tall glass of water and he was a man who had wandered the desert for ages. Cora was about to order something, but she laughs aloud in delight as the young jock suddenly makes a run for the bed at a breakneck speed.

The whole thing was both sickeningly fascinating and disturbing. The suddenly desperate make was mounting the female, rutting against her a growling like an animal, saying possessive slurs as she all but tore his clothes off. The audience laughs at his eagerness. They cheer him on as he removes his erect penis, grabbing the wailing, seizing girl by the hips and shoving into her sopping core without so much as a “hello” first. No, this was all an act of feral behavior. Like animals. Nothing about thus seemed ethical. Or consensual, even as the girl in heat screams like a dying woman and clumsily spurs her equally mindless over on.

The people around him laugh or point, some moaning in delight of this depraved scene, some even touching themselves. A few, like him, gasp in shock and marvel over the biggest feature that is odd. The man’s penis is odd. He had two glands at the base of his manhood, and the more he thrusted the redder he became, until he gives a shout of climax, and shoved himself deep. He jerks his hips and suddenly he’s stuck. He’s stuck in her. 

Steadily, in the loud and cheering room of observers, the mated couple come to. They try to move away from the other, get away from these bad people, but they cannot go far without harming themselves. Both are suddenly terrified, and the girl is now aware of herself, covering her face and now crying in humiliation, not pain. 

“Behold,” the host laughs beside Gold, “a knotted alpha and omega.”

Gold was completely shocked by what he had seen. He was frozen to his spot, unable to look away even though he knew he had to. 

Things only got worse when Cora had enough of the two flailing on the bed. The hulking lackys of hers were ordered to separate the two. The girl was still nonverbal for the most part, but her eyes were filled with horror and she scratched at the sheets in vain to escape. The male shouts no, they can’t, just everyone look away, please, why are you doing this—

This was the worst part, and Gold finally looked away and vomited on the carpet as the two men pulled the two apart. He’d never heard nor seen something so painful. 

He left quickly that night, and while he no longer thought alphas as mindless bullies, he had a desire to never wish for any omega to go through _that_ ever again.

~.~.~.~

_“Why didn’t you tell me?”_ It’s all he can ask right as Belle comes back to his shop the very next day, fully looking like she’s spent a restless night being harassed. So very strange that after just a few weeks he had grown accustom to her moods, her expressions, her little whims. Belle was so expressive in her affections that Gold mused he could determine them so well by now he could tell her bleaker side, too. As it were, if it had been any other day, under any other circumstance, he would rush to her side and gently prob her to tell him what affected her so. But because it was all under a delicate subject, and he was hurt by her lies, her implying her touches and flirtations that hinted something beyond friendship, he had no sympathy. He was angry, but he liked her, adored her, and could not bring himself to yell and banish her from the store. Not yet, anyway. He wanted answers.

Belle’s blue eyes widen at this. “Why does it matter? It never did before.”

“Before? You mean when you led me, led the town, to think you were as normal as I? A—beta as you put it!”

“So?! Plenty of omegas befriend betas! Alphas have relationships with betas all the time, so why can’t we—“

There. There it was, the little fantasy he’d harbored since that first meeting over tea, what he’d dared to hope for with each gentle passing touch from her, with each tender hug—His breath hitches. Surely she’s not… not now… Don’t say it was intentions for something more...

“Gold—Rory,” she whispers his name, his name he gave no one but her, “I’ve been trying to tell you for ages, but you’re so… stubborn or blind to it! I called it a _date_ the very first day!

“No, Belle!” Gold snaps. “You are—designed to be with one of _them_ , sweetheart! Because that’s what you’re meant for—for lots of children and a family and I am not suitable for that! Someone who can speak your language. Please, get your head out of the clouds, this isn’t one of your books—“

“Don’t tell me what I’m ‘designed’ for,” Belle responds fiercely, so fiercely it nearly knocks him backward. “There is nothing that says I am suppose to be with an alpha! I do not want an alpha. I want you!”

His heart clenches with forbidden want. Oh, how he wished to sweep her up in his arms and kiss away her angry glare, run his fingers through her long chestnut hair. “Dearie—Darling. I cannot give you want you need.”

“And what, exactly, is that?” She laughs humorlessly. 

“A… I can’t smell like you can,” apparently he adds in his head. “I can’t promise I can keep you always or pick up on your unspoken needs or wants. I am not… designed to help you through…” Gold swallows. “Through estrus.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Belle, I… you deserve so much.”

“What I want is you.”

“I can’t give you what you want.”

“Untrue. You would make me happy.”

He is nearly in tears at this point, lower lip trembling with his weakness. 

“Rory, I need your help,” she whispers and steps closer. “The ban… the alphas in town know I’m here. They’re interested.”

His teeth grit. He is jealous, he realizes. None of those idiots are worthy enough for Belle. Then again, no one was… “I would assume so.”

“My estrus is coming.”

His eyes snap up. “And— you need—a place to stay…?”

Her eyes are sad, watery, and he hates himself tenfold due to it. “If you won’t have me—at least give me somewhere to stay for a week?”

“A week?” He whimpers. Would it affect her that long?

She looks down. “It varies…”

“Then come to my house.” He shocks both of them. “I have extra rooms. No one will disturb you there.”

Gold has no idea what he’s doing, giving her a place to stay in his home, but then again, he thinks he loves her. Yes, he’s said it, but soon Belle will want an alpha to… service her. Until then, he will hoard this little omega close, not unlike a dragon with its stolen treasure, until she deems him no longer worthy for her priceless affection.


End file.
